Dark Rider

by Elizabeth Monvey

  “I’m going to kill you, Laurltrant.”

  "So you say," the merchant hissed as he lunged.

  Hark sidestepped a lunge and then another as Laurltrant’s second blade came tearing up backwards. How the old man moved like that was unknown. He countered attacked with a simple flick of a finger, and Laurltrant went down hard. He was a trained warrior while Laurltrant’s fighting years had passed with age.

  But the old man was tenacious and pushed himself to his feet. The sound of blades rang across the frozen land, each slice more fierce and controlled. Hark knew he was at a slight disadvantage, so when the opportunity appeared to take Laurltrant down, he didn’t hesitate.

  Laurltrant overextended his reach and struck out, just as Hark shrank back and sliced his blade downward. The blade cleanly severed the skin of Laurltrant’s hand, down to the bone. Blood erupted everywhere, gushing from the deep cut. With a defeated, agonized cry, Laurltrant let go of his daggers and fell to the icy ground, trying to stem the blood flow.

  Hark watched him, breathing heavily. He turned and rushed to Cax’s side. He was still breathing, but the wound was near his heart, plus he’d cracked his head open when he’d fallen.

  “Don’t you die on me, Mercenary,” Hark warned him.

  Cax’s eyes opened. Barely. “Did you get him?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Yes. But I don’t know how to get us back to Eyvindar.”

  “Help … me up.”

  “Cax, you’re hurt.”

  “And we’ll freeze to death if I don’t open a portal.”

  Hark’s mouth compressed, but he knew Cax was right. Standing he gestured for Ali to keep Cax upright while he dragged Laurltrant over. Cax closed his eyes, and a second later, a portal opened.

  When they arrived in the palace, Cax immediately collapsed.

  ****

  Cax drifted somewhere in limbo. Pain left him unable to defend himself. His body simply would not cooperate. Minutes or moments later, he opened his eyes. He was cold, but not frozen. Stiff but not broken. His pale eyes squinted from the sunlight that glinted off the iced tundra.

  He was all alone, left to die upon the icy tundra. He wasn’t surprised because he’d always been alone. He hoped Alisander went with Hark. He hoped Hark would ignore the customs of his title and treasure Ali.

  A shadow passed overhead, and he looked, shaking his head. It was an angel of death, come to take him to the afterlife. He spread out his arms and waited to be taken.

  Chapter Ten

  Hark ran with the stretcher, pushing people aside in his haste, as the healers hurried toward the surgery center. The Mercenary was half frozen. Ice caked around the edges of his eyes, mouth, and nose. His skin had an unhealthy blue pallor. But he was breathing, and an erratic beat thumped in the pulse in his neck. Hark reached down and gently moved the injured arm. His hand came away covered in blood

  “Don't you dare die on me," he muttered quietly to the unconscious man.

  The healers carried Cax into the center, and Hark halted since he couldn’t follow any further. All he could do was watch silently until they had turned the corner and disappeared from view.

  “Will he survive?” Alisander asked from behind him.

  Hark turned. Alisander was still wrapped up in a blanket, although he was back to his normal healthy color. “I don’t know. I wish had my drink right now.”

  “No, you don’t. He’d be mad at you for slipping.”

  Hark held up his hand to show how badly he was shaking. “I’m going to be sick again soon.”

  “I know,” Alisander said quietly. “I’ll help you through it.”

  Hark looked away. “I … I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Even going through withdrawal you beat Laurltrant.”

  “I’m ashamed because I hid in the drink rather than face my wants and desires head on.”

  Alisander laid a hand on his arm, making him startle. “You’re a passionate, strong man. You’re facing your weakness head on, and I’ll be by your side. Come, let’s wash up and change. The healers will be working on Cax for a while.”

  ****

  Hark sat by the window in the study, staring off into nothing as he replayed the last few days in his head, when word came that Cax was out of surgery. He rose and swiftly made his way back to the healing center.

  "We've done all we can," the head healer reported dispassionately, stating the fact in a cool, calm voice. "For the wound on his chest we had to repair some of the damage, but luckily it missed all his vital organs. He'll be fighting the lung fever soon, but we'll guide him through that."

  "What about the head wound?"

  "It looked worse than what it was. Just a bump."

  Hark stared at him. "So he'll live." It wasn't a question, but the healer nodded his head in answer.

  Hark felt the tension easing from his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his heck with one hand. "Don't leave his side." Then he swept out the room, down the corridor.

  "Have you talked to him?" his uncle asked from the shadows, halting Hark's stride.

  "He's still unconscious. He has a rather serious chest wound."

  "Perhaps it was the Mercenary's fate to die," Elric continued.

  He grabbed his uncle’s tunic and shook him. “Don’t say that. I won’t let him die.”

  “Let me go, nephew,” Elric ordered, and Hark released him. “You can’t have possibly come to care for this Mercenary.”

  “And what if I have?”

  “You are my heir. When you take the Governorship you’ll be expected to have a child—”

  “With whom?” Hark interrupted.

  “With a respected female from a noble family.”

  “I don’t want a wife.”

  “You can certainly have a mistress that will—”

  “Ever.”

  “But you need an heir. And you have no nephew.”

  Hark opened his mouth to say something more, to say what was really in his heart, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet. He wasn’t strong enough with his stomach rolling, his heart pounding, and his hands shaking. This wasn’t an argument he needed right now.

  The Governor was silent for a moment. “He failed to protect you.”

  "Don't blame him for my mistake," Hark interrupted. He ran a hand through his hair. "I have a prisoner I need to interrogate."

  He left his uncle, and whole lot of unsaid issues, behind as he made his way down to the dungeons. Laurltrant was behind a heavy cell door, wearing the white garments from the healing center. The healers had managed to save the hand and reattach it, much to Hark’s disappointment.

  He opened the cell and marched in, fists balled, and Laurltrant scrambled as far back as he could, clawing desperately at the wall with his one good hand.

  Hark punched him, a right hook against the jaw. Laurltrant’s head snapped to the side, and blood ran from the corner of his mouth. The sight of the blood did not stop Hark. In fact he took one look at it and remembered the blood that had been on his hand from Cax’s wound.

  He hit Laurltrant again.

  “Stop,” Laurltrant whispered, blood flecking onto Hark’s face. He reached up with a shaky hand to try to ward off another blow. “Please.”

  Hark slammed him against the wall and held him there. “Why, Laurltrant? This is treason against Eyvindar.”

  “This was never about treason against Eyvindar,” Laurltrant growled. “This was about you and him.”

  Hark stared at him as if he had gone insane.

  Laurltrant spat, but the spit didn’t even come close to Hark, who was standing and several feet away. But the intention, and the meaning, was clear.

  “The King has been told of your treachery.” He paused. “You are given the option of combat judgment or a trial before the King.”

  “Who will I fight if I chose combat?”

  “Me.”

  “Will my hand be allowed to heal?”

  “You’ll get two we
eks.”

  “Fine. I’ll choose combat judgment.”

  “So be it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  For some reason Hark had thought this would be easy. Vomit once or twice, survive a headache, and he’d be up and walking about in a day or two. But that night he was shaking so bad that he thought his teeth would clatter right out of his skull. He was sweating so bad that the sheets were soaked within minutes. Ali tried changing them, but as soon as he got back in bed his sweat just messed them up in no time.

  The vomiting was the worst. He couldn’t keep anything down, not even water. As soon as it hit his stomach, back up it would come. The day filtered in and out of the misery he found himself in. He honestly thought that if he was given his sword he would run himself through, because being dead couldn’t be as bad as this. Everything hurt. From his hair to his tips of his fingers, everywhere was just a ball of pain.

  As he swam in and out of consciousness, he was aware of Alisander’s calming presence. That was the only thing that got him through the misery. And by the time the third day had ended, the shakes ended. The nausea ended. He still had a killer headache, but he no longer wanted to kill himself.

  “Ali?” he whispered, pushing the words through his dry mouth.

  Alisander held up a glass of water and helped him sip it.

  “You did it,” he said.

  “How long?”

  “Three days. Cax is still out of it, too, healing.”

  “I’m never doing this again, Ali.”

  “Good. I’m never going to allow you to do it again.”

  Then he closed his eyes and lay back, and rested for the first time in three days.

  ****

  Cax opened his eyes, staring uncomprehendingly up at the unfamiliar ceiling, with the only thought of the past surfing through his mind. The misery of his childhood, the restlessness as he transitioned into an adult.

  He’d been alone. So alone for so long.

  "Cax."

  The Mercenary shook off the lingering dream of his past and turned his head to look at Hark. He sat next to Cax, in a comfortable looking chair pulled close to the bed. His eyes had a sunken look about them, and his skin looked a little lackluster.

  "You look tired," Cax rasped as he noticed the weary lines around Hark's eyes.

  “I am," he muttered. “I’ve been sick, and you’ve been unconscious.”

  Cax looked around the room. "How long?"

  "Four days," Hark scooted himself to the edge of the chair. "You've fought the infection, and your shoulder is on its way to being fully healed. I'm glad to see you're awake."

  Cax's eyes fluttered closed, and he gave a grunt. "Not for long," he muttered.

  Hark patted his arm. "Sleep."

  So he did. He slept long and deeply, images staining his mind as his subconscious worked through them. He was unaware of anyone around him, not the healers, not the servants, certainly not of Hark or Alisander who took turns staying by his side.

  It was near lunchtime the next day that Cax opened his eyes again, seeing Hark standing by the window. He must have made some noise because Hark turned and walked over to stand at the foot of the bed, staring down at Cax.

  "Going to survive?"

  Cax shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "Isn't that your job to tell me?"

  Hark snorted. "You've enough to sense to let me know if I'm wasting my time trying to keep you alive. If I tell you you'll live you'll make sure and die just to spite me."

  This brought an amused smile to Cax's lips. "Too right."

  Hark moved to the chair, still by the bed, and sat. "Cax," he asked softly. "Do you care for Alisander?"

  Cax sighed. "Yes. There is something deep between us."

  This, clearly, had not been what Hark was expecting to hear. "I see. For me as well. But then … I’ve felt the same way with you."

  “I can’t stay here, Hark,” Cax told him softly. “And Ali can’t remain your servant. He deserves more than that.”

  “I know. As I vomited day and night for the past few days, I came to realize that I can’t remain my uncle’s heir. I’ve never wanted to be his heir, even less now knowing I’d lose the two men I’ve come to care for.”

  “The life of a Mercenary is unpredictable,” Cax warned him.

  “I’d rather a day with both of you than a lifetime alone.”

  “Your drink?”

  “I’ll always have the craving. I want a drink right now. But my hands are no longer shaking.”

  “Ali and I will help you.”

  “I know.”

  "Laurltrant?"

  "In the dungeon. I don’t understand him. I don’t understand why he’s done what he’s done. But he chose combat, and in a little over a week judgment shall be made.”

  Cax closed his eyes on a tired sigh.

  "Rest," Hark muttered. He rose and grabbed his bottle of liquor and walked out without a backward glance.

  ****

  Cax became frustrated easily over the next few days as he tried to push a body that simply couldn't be pushed. The next day, after he had awoken early, he had tried to stand and walk, which turned out as a bad idea when his weak legs collapsed on him and he knocked over a table as he fell.

  Hark had come in then, hands on hips, and seen what Cax was trying to do. He couldn't stop the Mercenary, so after a heated debate about what should or should not be attempted, Hark stayed nearby watching as the Mercenary forced his legs to move. Strength would not return without mobility.

  The next day Cax found he was better, but still a little light-headed, which was to be expected considering the size of the bump on his head. He had taken up his bloodletters but found he could not move his right arm very much due to the cauterized scarring. This annoyed him, and he spent all day and most of the evening trying to loosen up the tight skin around the wound.

  The third day he left his bed and refused to go back to it. He didn't have time for being sick or for healing. Hark would be fighting in one week, and he wanted to make sure the warrior was in tip top shape. Laurltrant might be fighting with a bad arm, but Hark was fighting his addiction.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hark entered his uncle’s council chamber and waited until Elric looked up from whatever document he was reading to focus on him. He took a deep breath and mentally rehearsed what he was going to say.

  “I can practically taste the nervousness you’re sweating,” Elric murmured. He set his pen aside and steadied his gaze upon him. “What’s wrong, Hark?”

  “Upon much reflection, I have decided to leave Eyvindar.”

  “I see. And do what? Become a Mercenary like Cax? You’re too old to join the Guild.”

  “I’m only five and twenty years.”

  “You’re my heir.”

  Hark shook his head. “No, I’m not. I understand the family line, the importance of what being a Governor to the King means. But I cannot live up to that. It’s not what I want.”

  Elric surged to his feet. “Do you think I care what you want? You and I are the last of our family!”

  “Then I suggest you find a wife, uncle. Beget your children with her because I will not live your life anymore.”

  “You are ungrateful. Just like your father. My brother was given everything in life, and he squandered it away. When your mother died I knew I had to step in, take control, so I paid him off. He was happy to give away his only child so he could pour all his money into drink. Like father, like son.”

  “So you resort to trying to hurt my feelings? Childish, uncle.”

  Elric moved around his desk to plead with him face to face. “Please don’t. Our seat next to the King has been in our family since Eyvindar was built. If you turn away from this, the King will appoint a new Governor.”

  “Do you think I care what you want?” Hark asked softly, throwing the words back in his uncle’s face. “Mercenaries have a title for apprentices. Life companions. I have two people I plan to make my life companions. I won’t give
them up for anything.”

  Elric’s shoulders sagged. “Perhaps I should see if I can find a wife.”

  Hark released the breath he’d been holding. He placed a hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “You deserve to find love.”

  “I hope you’re happy with the life you’ve chosen.”

  “I know I will be. Cax and Alisander take away the resentment I’ve had. I’ve not been a very honorable warrior, but with them, I can be.”

  ****

  “Raise your right arm higher,” Cax ordered.

  “I am raising my right arm higher,” Hark stated irritably.

  “No, it’s dropping. I’m sitting right here, and I see it dropping.”

  Hark threw him a dark glower. “I don’t see why I have to train under your expert tutelage. I’ve been pit training every day of my life. And besides, Laurltrant is wounded.”

  “His wrist is healed. It may be weak, but he’ll be able to fight so don’t underestimate him. He’s fighting with a sense of vengeance.”

  Hark flipped his sword in a circle and resumed training. The man he sparred with was one of the best in Eyvindar’s warrior ranks, so Hark felt his training was sound. The shakes had completely left his body, and although he did feel a little weak, he was sure a good night’s rest and a decent meal were all he needed.

  He practiced for the rest of the day, until his sword arm was tired and his body was weak with hunger. The sun had begun to sink in the horizon, bathing the land with a golden glow. He, Hark, and Ali ate in his chamber since he didn’t want to face his uncle and hear questions he didn’t want to answer. Once supper was over and the food was taken away, the three of them decided to bathe in the hot springs below.

  “Moon-ivy is a natural relaxant,” Hark murmured as he gazed up at the round moon. Behind him he heard Ali and Cax get into the hot water. “But I became too dependent on it helping me relax.”

  “I’m proud of you,” Cax said.

  Hark turned around and saw a very naked Cax and Ali in the water. His cock hardened immediately, and he knew this night was going to be the beginning of their bonding. He undressed, knowing their eyes were upon him, and when he stood gloriously naked, he walked slowly into the steaming pool.